


Hiding An Injury

by icewhisper



Series: Holiday Cheer & Tears [17]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 04:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17036327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: “Stay outta trouble until I catch up to you,” Mick told him with a half-hearted grin as he watched Len shove his few belongings into a bag.





	Hiding An Injury

“Stay outta trouble until I catch up to you,” Mick told him with a half-hearted grin as he watched Len shove his few belongings into a bag. He still had another two months before he got released.

“No promises,” Len said, cheeky, and tossed Mick a battered copy of _Lord Of The Rings_. “Read it while I’m gone.”

“You know I won’t.”

Len shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get bored. It’ll be a lot less fun without me here.”

“You mean it’ll be a lot less stressful,” Mick corrected, but he still tossed the book onto his nightstand. Len didn’t think he’d actually read it. “Pretty sure I spent the last four months pulling you outta fights.”

“Or stopping them.”

“Yeah, because you don’t know when to shut up.” Mick shook his head. “Seriously, man. Keep your head down out there. I ain’t gonna be there to keep your dumb ass from getting shot.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Mick.”

 

 

Going home should have been terrifying, but he thought of his dad and his temper – of Lisa with her tiny body and an innocence he hadn’t had since his mom died – and it felt more like a relief. If he was there to pull their dad’s attention away, she’d be safe. He could take a hit in ways he never wanted her to have to.

In some screwed up way, it was easier. The kids at the juvie center had been unfamiliar. They’d had their gangs and their allegiances and even though having Mick had helped, it hadn’t kept him clear of a beating. He knew his dad’s triggers, though. He knew what set him off and how to twist to minimize damage when he was up against a single person.

He kept his mouth shut the entire drive home, head bowed and hands folded in his lap. His fingers still twitched the same way they always did when he was anxious, but he kept them where they were. On the streets, he’d let himself reach in and nab a few wallets until the feeling had faded, but not with his dad. Never with his dad. He knew better than that.

The house was quiet when they got inside. No Lisa rushing out to greet him. No dolls left abandoned on the coffee table.

He hefted his bag up his shoulder a little more and moved upstairs, fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm. It was fine. She was fine. She was probably with their grandfather still.

She wasn’t. Lisa looked up at him from the center of his bed, the teddy bear he’d given her clutched to her chest. She scrambled off the mattress, but her steps to him were slower. Quieter.

He pulled her against him, holding her tight. She was fine. She was in one piece, he told himself as he pulled back and looked her over. “You’re okay?” he asked, voice deliberately soft.

She nodded. “Daddy got mad at the walls. I did what you said and hid whenever he drank.”

His shoulders sagged, relieved. “Good. Good. You stay with Gramps?”

“On the weekends. He told Dad he’s been lonely,” she said. She’d still been too young to remember when their grandmother died. Len didn’t think he’d been lying when he said he was lonely.

“You’re gonna keep going there on the weekends, okay? I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“I wanna be with you,” she whined as she followed him to sit on the bed.

“I’ll be there when I can,” he said, “and you’ll have me during the week.”

She pouted, but she didn’t fight. She just curled up into a little mountain of blankets that seemed to mark the spot as hers. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“No hogging the covers.”

The smile she gave him said she’d hog every last one. “Did you make friends while you were gone?”

He hummed and leaned back against the headboard. “One. Mick.”

“Is he nice?”

“Nope,” Len said, popping the P. “He’s a pain in the butt. Doesn’t even like _Lord Of The Rings_.”

 

 

“Damn it.”

“You’re not supposed to use that word,” Lisa accused from her place at the doorway to the bathroom.

“ _You’re_ not supposed to use that word. I’ve been to juvie.” He really should cover it up, he thought. He was supposed to meet Mick at the Motorcar soon. Of all days for his dad to hit above the collar. “Go get dressed. I’m gonna drop you off with Gramps on my way.”

He ducked down to the bottom cabinet after she was gone, ribs protesting with the movement, and snagged the concealer and pressed powder he’d hidden. It wasn’t his best work, he thought when he was done, but the lighting in the diner wasn’t great and he doubted Mick would be looking for much. The guy would be too excited for a meal that didn’t taste entirely like cardboard.

 

 

Mick was already there when he walked in, settled back in one of the booths with a pop. They grinned at each other as he sat and Len flashed a worn wallet at Mick. “Joe West is paying today,” he said. “Dessert, too. Guy’s got a fifty in here.”

“Thank you, Joe West,” Mick chuckled. “You get bored on the walk over?”

Twitchy was more like. He’d stopped what felt like a thousand times to check his reflection in store windows and make sure the makeup covered everything. “Maybe. You order already?”

“Waiting on your scrawny ass.”

Len flashed him a single finger and shook his head when Mick tried to offer him a menu. “Bacon burger. Chocolate milkshake.”

Mick frowned. “I thought you were Jewish?”

“Never said I was kosher.”

Mick shook his head at him, smiling. “Can’t believe I missed your dumb ass.”

“Keep talking about my ass, someone’s gonna think something’s up.”

Mick leaned across the table specifically so he could hiss, “You’re the one that kissed me, not the other way around.” He’d nearly gone back out of Len’s space when he frowned. “Are you wearing makeup?”

Len went stiff. “What? No,” he said, but Mick reached out and ran a thumb across his cheekbone. He watched Mick frown down at the concealer on his finger and the color that must have been peeking out on Len’s face. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re covering up bruises.”

“You’re covering up burns.”

“I _always_ have burns. You always got bruises?” Mick looked at him, concerned. “Wait. Do you?”

“No.”

“You’re wearing _makeup_ ,” Mick pointed out. “No one buys that shit for their first black eye.”

“Who said I bought it?”

Mick looked unimpressed. “Talk.”

“About _Lord Of The Rings_? Sure.”

“Lenny-” He cut himself off when the waitress came to take their order and scowled at Len when she left. “I’m not talking about that fucking book.”

“It’s nothing. Got it under control,” he said. “I told you; I can take care of myself.”

“You planning to tell me when you can’t?”

Len shrugged. “You gonna tell me when you wanna set fires?”

“Just the big ones.”

“Just the big ones, then,” Len agreed.

(Six months later, Len called Mick, said _it’s a big one_ , and Mick got on the first bus to Central.)

The End


End file.
